Yes.................
Our secret is out.....thanks to those cruel little men in white coats.
We women are suckers for the wardrobe and very few of us can be induced to change it for anything else, like you know..............Sex!
Simply put, in the case of either or survivor, a woman will choose Dior over Durex.
Its something in our genes. As one of my friends rightly put it, if we depended on the female libido for human evolution, the future of the human race would have been in serious jeopardy.
Only a woman who has felt the heady rush of placing her foot into her 80th shoe, or who has shimmied into another pair of jeans can understand what I am saying.
Its the lustful surge of possession that cannot, simply cannot be replaced by other forms of lust. Love at first sight, the desire to pursue and even emotional engagement are the factors of the chase here. The thrill of the chase, the pride of the mirror, the orgiastical sense of shopping in twos and threes, now how is anything going to take the place of that?
So while guys get their thrills chasing the ladies, the ladies are happier in Saks, Bloomingdales or a reasonable Indian version of it in our country.
Now please tell me...............why not?
A man will never make you feel thin.
His colour may not complement your skin type.
He cannot make you three inches taller.
He cannot help you smell nice.
He cannot bring just the right pink to your cheeks or shimmer your eyes up.
He absolutely cannot, hug your figure and make you feel like a Goddess, in flowing chiffon.
So till they dont break the gene code and give us what we want, we have settled for the next best thing.........Barcodes!
Monday, February 12, 2007
Friday, February 9, 2007
Cannibalize!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This post is an ode to someone from whom I learnt this word, Cannibalize.
Cannibalism (from Spanish caníbal, in connection with alleged cannibalism among the Caribs), also called anthropophagy (from Greek anthropos "man" and phagein "to eat") is the act or practice of humans eating other humans. In zoology, the term cannibalism is extended to refer to any species eating members of its own kind.
Now that we have set the meaning clear, i would like to add the following ways in which this term finds further meaning:
1. Life has Cannibalized Art.
2. The art pages and events have Cannibalized all news on Page 3 in page 3 oriented papers.
3. Shilp Shetty has Cannibalized the imagination of a nation which earlier spoke about the weather with more pasion.
4. TV has Cannibalized reading.
5. Polution has Cannibalized our greenery.
6. Social networking has Cannibalized our work hours.
7. Brangelina has Cannibalized a perfectly great hunk and sexy chick into the smug married of the century.
8. AshAbhi has Cannibalized all religious temples and pujas etc.
9. We hope the Tatas can help us Cannibalize the international market.
10. Indiscriminate urban planning has Cannibalized any hope of ever walking down a road/ lane/ area with less than 10,000 people at a time.
cheerio.................
Cannibalism (from Spanish caníbal, in connection with alleged cannibalism among the Caribs), also called anthropophagy (from Greek anthropos "man" and phagein "to eat") is the act or practice of humans eating other humans. In zoology, the term cannibalism is extended to refer to any species eating members of its own kind.
Now that we have set the meaning clear, i would like to add the following ways in which this term finds further meaning:
1. Life has Cannibalized Art.
2. The art pages and events have Cannibalized all news on Page 3 in page 3 oriented papers.
3. Shilp Shetty has Cannibalized the imagination of a nation which earlier spoke about the weather with more pasion.
4. TV has Cannibalized reading.
5. Polution has Cannibalized our greenery.
6. Social networking has Cannibalized our work hours.
7. Brangelina has Cannibalized a perfectly great hunk and sexy chick into the smug married of the century.
8. AshAbhi has Cannibalized all religious temples and pujas etc.
9. We hope the Tatas can help us Cannibalize the international market.
10. Indiscriminate urban planning has Cannibalized any hope of ever walking down a road/ lane/ area with less than 10,000 people at a time.
cheerio.................
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Why I still love Sallu
Yes.................I love him, absolutely and irrevocably, I love Salman Khan.
I know he has been replaced by younger sex bombs like Hrithik, Abhishek, and John. But, my Sallu still gets my eart pounding, knees trembling and cheeks dimpling.
No one...yes...not even John has mastered the art of taking off his shirt the way Salman Khan has. No one has shown us the addictive appeal of the waxed chest like Sallu baba.
I know he mows down people when he drives, shoots a few stray animals and beats up his girlfriends, but I still love him.
I think its just the classic appeal of the bad boy. Sallu is the quintissential bad boy. And every woman loves a rogue.
He is also the only man I know who can carry off a see through black lace shirt, or in the current case an orange open necked jacket (Salaam-e-Ishq) and not look like a dork.
I saw him after a long time on screen in role written for him. Not for my Sallu baba the tear jerkers or machismo roles. Make him a James Dean who can love em, leave em, and sweep them off their feet, and then coolly sip his glass of red wine.
Let him growl, Raohuol.......in your ear, bite your neck and run away. OOHHHHHHH LALA!
Maybe I'm just growing old, but Sallu is as sexy as ever, and if that muscular torso is albiet a lil more beefy and the hair looks well-woven on, then so what? I am no spring chicken either and very very perfect young men only make me feel older. So we are growing older together, Sallu and me :)
He makes the other heros look like sweet innocent boys, and he plays the refined rake with a heart of gold to perfection.
Yes, he hams, cos he is the master of the comic love story. And cos he is the bad boy who can whisk you away and make you forget the world, the way even Hrithik in Dhoom 2 just about manages.
And thats why I love him......................I once bumped into him at a discotheque told him I loved him and the foolish man offered to be my brother instead. Perhaps that was because my husband was glaring at his drunk wife batting eyelashes at her fav hero and a svelete Somy sumthing was with Salman. But this love story hasn't ended yet...................
Not till the next Saalam-E-Ishq, it won't!
I know he has been replaced by younger sex bombs like Hrithik, Abhishek, and John. But, my Sallu still gets my eart pounding, knees trembling and cheeks dimpling.
No one...yes...not even John has mastered the art of taking off his shirt the way Salman Khan has. No one has shown us the addictive appeal of the waxed chest like Sallu baba.
I know he mows down people when he drives, shoots a few stray animals and beats up his girlfriends, but I still love him.
I think its just the classic appeal of the bad boy. Sallu is the quintissential bad boy. And every woman loves a rogue.
He is also the only man I know who can carry off a see through black lace shirt, or in the current case an orange open necked jacket (Salaam-e-Ishq) and not look like a dork.
I saw him after a long time on screen in role written for him. Not for my Sallu baba the tear jerkers or machismo roles. Make him a James Dean who can love em, leave em, and sweep them off their feet, and then coolly sip his glass of red wine.
Let him growl, Raohuol.......in your ear, bite your neck and run away. OOHHHHHHH LALA!
Maybe I'm just growing old, but Sallu is as sexy as ever, and if that muscular torso is albiet a lil more beefy and the hair looks well-woven on, then so what? I am no spring chicken either and very very perfect young men only make me feel older. So we are growing older together, Sallu and me :)
He makes the other heros look like sweet innocent boys, and he plays the refined rake with a heart of gold to perfection.
Yes, he hams, cos he is the master of the comic love story. And cos he is the bad boy who can whisk you away and make you forget the world, the way even Hrithik in Dhoom 2 just about manages.
And thats why I love him......................I once bumped into him at a discotheque told him I loved him and the foolish man offered to be my brother instead. Perhaps that was because my husband was glaring at his drunk wife batting eyelashes at her fav hero and a svelete Somy sumthing was with Salman. But this love story hasn't ended yet...................
Not till the next Saalam-E-Ishq, it won't!
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Three in Bed
I know the title is so misleading..........................
yesterday two friends of mine, a gal and a boy, spent out evening in bed.
Before you faint in shock, this was not a seedy menage a trois. Instead it began when I called up my gal pal and invited her over for a 'gals nite in', and she in turn invited our mutual guy pal.
A few drinks and lots of food later, we were abvsolutely knackered and wondering ways of beating the freezing cold. Till my horridly tyrannical five and half year old wanted to include us in his silly little game. The game was a spaceflight to thailand, if you please.
And he bullied and badgered us to go into my bedroom and wait for the ship to take off. Once inside the covers were too tempting for us gals, so we snuggled in. And we switched on the heater and slept. I mean I giggled, my friend did her kniting and our guy pal fell asleep. So much for exotic excitement.
This is of course,the closest I have got to a threesome in bed. But, it was still a cosy moment, and absolutely unpretentious, with friends who know you so well, you don't even need to brush your hair with them. The knitting of course, was the piece de resistance in terms of boredom, and absolutely take for granted relaxation.
And if you don'tbelieve the chaste evening, catch the pics my son took with the cellphone :)
yesterday two friends of mine, a gal and a boy, spent out evening in bed.
Before you faint in shock, this was not a seedy menage a trois. Instead it began when I called up my gal pal and invited her over for a 'gals nite in', and she in turn invited our mutual guy pal.
A few drinks and lots of food later, we were abvsolutely knackered and wondering ways of beating the freezing cold. Till my horridly tyrannical five and half year old wanted to include us in his silly little game. The game was a spaceflight to thailand, if you please.
And he bullied and badgered us to go into my bedroom and wait for the ship to take off. Once inside the covers were too tempting for us gals, so we snuggled in. And we switched on the heater and slept. I mean I giggled, my friend did her kniting and our guy pal fell asleep. So much for exotic excitement.
This is of course,the closest I have got to a threesome in bed. But, it was still a cosy moment, and absolutely unpretentious, with friends who know you so well, you don't even need to brush your hair with them. The knitting of course, was the piece de resistance in terms of boredom, and absolutely take for granted relaxation.
And if you don'tbelieve the chaste evening, catch the pics my son took with the cellphone :)
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Hair Spas and Supermodels
I don't know what it is about a hair spa that is an instant pick me up. Yesterday, I reached my colony ready to kill someone at the end of a long, tiring day.
Till my mother called me up and assured me of two baby free hours. We have a new parlour in our plaza building replete with the latest electronic and technical wizardry to make women beautiful.
Which is why I spent two blissful hours getting a hair spa done, and finished feeling like MS. Diva!
There is something about having a nice, stylish, sleek mane of hair that makes any woman smile. I am not an exception at all. There is nothing better than the intense pampering a simple shampoo and blow dry can give a woman. Not for me the facials, spas or massage treatments, just something nice for my crowning glory. A friend of mine comes every year from Mumbai and is a hair spa addict. She has been known to sneak into parlous before her events and spend one hour of ultimate peace before the panic starts. Of course, that is because as a business associate I do a lot of the panicking for her.
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that inside this pudgy 5 foot 1 frame is a 5'11 super skinny Brazilian super model aching to jump out. After being designated shrimp of the locker room at many a fashion show, it is only the super confidence of the Brazilian supermodel that keeps this chica going.
Or maybe all those years of mental trauma of being first of three in line in school assembly (shortest to tallest) , has played havoc with my self-esteem, and created a split personality. The only advantage as I remember telling friends over a drunken evening is that unlike my Ms. World lookalike best friend whose tall lithe figure and curly locks scream for attention, my short, ordinary, average height and build, assures me all the secrecy of a supari killer, an alternative profession under consideration once i retire from pr.
There are always advantages in life, even if they are short ones topped with a head of sparkling, shimmering, spa-ed hair!
Till my mother called me up and assured me of two baby free hours. We have a new parlour in our plaza building replete with the latest electronic and technical wizardry to make women beautiful.
Which is why I spent two blissful hours getting a hair spa done, and finished feeling like MS. Diva!
There is something about having a nice, stylish, sleek mane of hair that makes any woman smile. I am not an exception at all. There is nothing better than the intense pampering a simple shampoo and blow dry can give a woman. Not for me the facials, spas or massage treatments, just something nice for my crowning glory. A friend of mine comes every year from Mumbai and is a hair spa addict. She has been known to sneak into parlous before her events and spend one hour of ultimate peace before the panic starts. Of course, that is because as a business associate I do a lot of the panicking for her.
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that inside this pudgy 5 foot 1 frame is a 5'11 super skinny Brazilian super model aching to jump out. After being designated shrimp of the locker room at many a fashion show, it is only the super confidence of the Brazilian supermodel that keeps this chica going.
Or maybe all those years of mental trauma of being first of three in line in school assembly (shortest to tallest) , has played havoc with my self-esteem, and created a split personality. The only advantage as I remember telling friends over a drunken evening is that unlike my Ms. World lookalike best friend whose tall lithe figure and curly locks scream for attention, my short, ordinary, average height and build, assures me all the secrecy of a supari killer, an alternative profession under consideration once i retire from pr.
There are always advantages in life, even if they are short ones topped with a head of sparkling, shimmering, spa-ed hair!
Thursday, January 4, 2007
Hansel and Gretel?
Today morning I had to sit my five and half year old son down and explain to him the concept of a 'stranger'.
It took a lot of effort and a little help from the tradtional fairy tale to explain to him that every adult in this world is not nice to little children. In fact, suffice it to say that I had to literally show him pictures of the Nithari villagers holding up photographs of their children in the newspaper to get him to understand that the big bad witch and wolf do not just exist in story books.
Many times we explain to our children, don't open the door, don't talk to strangers, take nothing form anyone, don't smile at someone if they smile back at you.
And I wonder............"Welcome Xenophobia" and "Paranoia". This is the world view we are giving to them: Close your doors, close yourself to the world, because there are monsters out there.
And, yes, as Nithari shows us, there really are monsters out there.
When I was 12 years old I was molested for the first and last time. My parents took us to a toy store in CP, in Delhi and the toy store salesman felt me up. I still recall the hot shame, shock and anguish those few moments meant to me. I never understood what was happening. The store was crowded and I kept thinking it was my imagination. But the moment I got out of the store, I burst into hot tears. Needless to say my parents told me never to take that kind of treatment from anyone again. They supported me and believed me and taught me the gumption to slap anyone who touched me without permission.
No one ever did touch me again.................at least not without my permission.
But before that I did not even know that adults could treat children that way. Telling my son at half of the age I was, does not feel good. But, we have no choices. And I am sure every parent dreads this 'talk' as much as I did.
Knowledge is power in a world where the mind is warped and with fear. And research shows that history repeats itself in the case of child molestation.
If I was the government of this country, I would hand over the Nithari killers to the parents of those tortured children and let the natural and pagan laws of justice prevail. Sometimes the court of law is too banal for henious crimes.
But when we do start catching the real culprit which is the breeding ground of these horrors?
It took a lot of effort and a little help from the tradtional fairy tale to explain to him that every adult in this world is not nice to little children. In fact, suffice it to say that I had to literally show him pictures of the Nithari villagers holding up photographs of their children in the newspaper to get him to understand that the big bad witch and wolf do not just exist in story books.
Many times we explain to our children, don't open the door, don't talk to strangers, take nothing form anyone, don't smile at someone if they smile back at you.
And I wonder............"Welcome Xenophobia" and "Paranoia". This is the world view we are giving to them: Close your doors, close yourself to the world, because there are monsters out there.
And, yes, as Nithari shows us, there really are monsters out there.
When I was 12 years old I was molested for the first and last time. My parents took us to a toy store in CP, in Delhi and the toy store salesman felt me up. I still recall the hot shame, shock and anguish those few moments meant to me. I never understood what was happening. The store was crowded and I kept thinking it was my imagination. But the moment I got out of the store, I burst into hot tears. Needless to say my parents told me never to take that kind of treatment from anyone again. They supported me and believed me and taught me the gumption to slap anyone who touched me without permission.
No one ever did touch me again.................at least not without my permission.
But before that I did not even know that adults could treat children that way. Telling my son at half of the age I was, does not feel good. But, we have no choices. And I am sure every parent dreads this 'talk' as much as I did.
Knowledge is power in a world where the mind is warped and with fear. And research shows that history repeats itself in the case of child molestation.
If I was the government of this country, I would hand over the Nithari killers to the parents of those tortured children and let the natural and pagan laws of justice prevail. Sometimes the court of law is too banal for henious crimes.
But when we do start catching the real culprit which is the breeding ground of these horrors?
Monday, December 18, 2006
Oh My God!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Its my husband!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well..............
the history to this post is that I have been married for 11 years. And while singletons have absolutely no clue what I am talking about, anyone in a marriage beyond five years will agree with me that spouses tend to start blending into the background like a favourite recliner chair after a couple of years.
So had mine.
Until he became a "Road Warrior" or "Extreme Jobber". Google the phrases if you like or I can tell you in one simple sentence that he now travels a lot and stays out of the country for days at a stretch.
When I first heard the news I tried my best to be stoic about his frequent travelling, all the while secretly alternating between wild euphoria (dammit its been a long while since I was single
) to pouring my woes into endless cups of coffee with sympathetic friends.
Till the sms's started. The Good morning sms, the afternoon sms and the good evening sms. Suddenly there was this gallant man who wanted to know what happened at the end of my day, or at work. Usually we tune out in front of the telly or over a glass of wine in the evening, but frankly i must admit the man had a certain style with those sms's.
Enough for me to invite him to gmail chat. He hates the yahoo and msn icons and frankly gmail chat is so lovely and unobtrusive.
And now, I blush to admit, I am chatting with my husband.
Only he isn't just the bloke who used to need to be fed and clothed and nagged periodically anymore. He is an interesting man with dreams, desires and a very exciting and jet set life. And oh my gawd!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, he is MY HUSBAND.
Which only goes to show that for our generation, technology provides verbal or mental foreplay.
Someone has just told me about skype. Which hopefully will be our next cyber rendevous.
So till the next sms, or sexy one liner, I am hooked!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Maybe I should take this relationship further and get a webcam :)
the history to this post is that I have been married for 11 years. And while singletons have absolutely no clue what I am talking about, anyone in a marriage beyond five years will agree with me that spouses tend to start blending into the background like a favourite recliner chair after a couple of years.
So had mine.
Until he became a "Road Warrior" or "Extreme Jobber". Google the phrases if you like or I can tell you in one simple sentence that he now travels a lot and stays out of the country for days at a stretch.
When I first heard the news I tried my best to be stoic about his frequent travelling, all the while secretly alternating between wild euphoria (dammit its been a long while since I was single
) to pouring my woes into endless cups of coffee with sympathetic friends.
Till the sms's started. The Good morning sms, the afternoon sms and the good evening sms. Suddenly there was this gallant man who wanted to know what happened at the end of my day, or at work. Usually we tune out in front of the telly or over a glass of wine in the evening, but frankly i must admit the man had a certain style with those sms's.
Enough for me to invite him to gmail chat. He hates the yahoo and msn icons and frankly gmail chat is so lovely and unobtrusive.
And now, I blush to admit, I am chatting with my husband.
Only he isn't just the bloke who used to need to be fed and clothed and nagged periodically anymore. He is an interesting man with dreams, desires and a very exciting and jet set life. And oh my gawd!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, he is MY HUSBAND.
Which only goes to show that for our generation, technology provides verbal or mental foreplay.
Someone has just told me about skype. Which hopefully will be our next cyber rendevous.
So till the next sms, or sexy one liner, I am hooked!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Maybe I should take this relationship further and get a webcam :)
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